My husband likes this next one, because he thinks we look like zombies.
Memories with my sister, in no particular order.
My sister and I played baseball with the neighborhood boys every summer, all summer. We rooted for the underdogs, the Red Sox, faithfully. We found out later that the “red sox hat” she wore devotedly was really a white sox hat—minor details.
We would mow the lawn, make milk smoothies, and sit in the patio swing watching our dog and cat run around the yard chasing squirrels and each other.
The only real fights we had were for good reasons, mandarin oranges mainly.
We made a film series about a criminal and a hero. I was the criminal—she was the hero. We didn’t have a way to edit the scenes together, so they had to be filmed in order the first time. One particular “movie” was about a bandit, me, climbing a tree to rob a house (our house of course). My sister, the hero, was running in from the alleyway, diving over the fence, and running across the yard to stop me. The camera man, well, there was no camera man. She would film me in the tree, and then I would climb down from the tree and film her running, then she would film me in the tree once again, and so on—you get the point.
We would climb the roof, try to count the stars, get tired, and climb down before we fell asleep.
We slept most summer nights in the greenhouse my dad made for us. It had shelves that were perfect-little-girl-sized bunk beads. The smell of tomato plants and freshly laid bark filled the air. We would tell “best-case-scenario” stories, but to be honest we couldn’t imagine life getting much better than it already was.
When times were tough financially, we decided to shovel snow and sell chocolates to get the fabric to make stockings and buy small Christmas presents for each family member. One of my best memories was walking to the corner store in a blizzard, money in pocket, to find sparkly Christmas lights to put on the tree. We were so excited we couldn’t possibly wait for the blizzard to stop. The snow was pelting us in the face, so we would take turns closing our eyes, having the other person make sure not to let us trip or run into anything.
When we were younger, we lived on a small farm in the country. It was our job to milk the goats every morning before dawn and feed the animals—we were always late for the bus, and always had straw in our hair.
We spoke pig latin fluently to each other, and had multiple forts. You could usually find us by small trails of dried ramen noodle crumbs—that is, if the sound of us crunching on them wasn’t enough.
We cried the first time we were apart for longer then a day.
When we moved to town we started dancing ballet again. We danced in the dance studio and in the kitchen.
We helped our dad and brothers renovate a few of our houses. They were the demo crew—we were the cleanup crew. Our favorite part was taking all of the old house materials, loading them in the trailer, and dropping them off at the landfill. We would pull the trailer right to the edge of the pile and play baseball with small 2x4s and little scraps of wood, “Baaaattter up!”
We rode our bikes down “beaver bank”, and always stopped to get a free piece of delicious bread at Great harvest on the way.
We climbed the
Grand Teton with
my dad and brothers. When we reached the top we were so exhausted we fell
asleep on the rocks.
We loved all things funny, hilarious, colorful, or that had to do with fruit snacks, dance, church, baseball, Bob Hope, art, Mexico, swings, the Beatles, or the outdoors.
Every birthday we would write our name and previous age on a balloon and watch it float away. It would remind us how fast times flies—when you are having fun.
How did I get so lucky? I couldn't hope for a better sister.
Happy birthday Crystallynn! Love you!
P.S. These are some photos from a sister shoot we did this summer in Germany. The photos were taken by Rex Ames, a really great fashion photographer, and edited by me. Oh, and we are wearing our "friendship shoes" we got in